


like a broken king

by svartalfheimr



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, DC Comics References, Disturbing Themes, Hellblazer References, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Porn With Plot, References to Polynesian Religion & Lore, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svartalfheimr/pseuds/svartalfheimr
Summary: Rex is a demon hunter specialized in Aitu. When he hears rumours about people disappearing in the US and leaving strange glyphs behind, he knowsexactlywho the culprit is—and he's too much of an idiot not to go find him himself.
Relationships: Darth Maul/CT-7567 | Rex
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	like a broken king

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the devil you know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28138047) by [jasondont (minigami)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minigami/pseuds/jasondont). 



> 100% inspired by the fic above ("dragon child" leaves in my mind rent free) and kazhan's gor jus art available [here](https://kazhan-draws.tumblr.com/post/639882512094674944/so-if-you-havent-read-dead-space-between-the).
> 
> This was supposed to be a "short pwp" and if you pretend you can't see the wordcount and the *handwaving* plot then it still _is_!
> 
> Fair warnings: if you quit smoking, this may be challenging to read; I gave Rex some of John Constantine's bad habits and he definitely has the chainsmoker thing going on. There’s dubious consent and everything you could expect from an arranged marriage au (the story isn’t that at all but,,,I thought about it and the same implied warnings could be listed here) and it’s only mentions but if you don’t like anything that could _resemble_ discourse on colonialism and religion exclusivism this might get squicky.

  
  


It’s the laugh that gets on his nerves. Rex grits his teeth and frowns; he can feel the beginning of a migraine forming. He shoves his hands down his pockets—they’re full of holes and when his pinky slips inside one something viscous and slippery pokes the digit then growls. He can’t find a lighter. Oh, right. He threw the last one in a circle of sulfur. His throat graces him with a sour taste. It seems to come from his stomach with the intent to burn through only to settle on his tongue. 

“It’s the gherkin, isn’t it,” he mutters. He should’ve taken it out from his Cheesemeister. Americans and their fast food chains—no wonder Darksiders roam free around here, with all the vices and lust for things that are far from good and healthy according to monotheist standards. Big Belly Burgers is a blight on the earth. Rex eats there every time he’s on this side of the world.

“Hello, captain,” the voice rumbles, echoing throughout the tunnels. Rex huffs. Always one for the dramatics, isn’t he.

“I need a lighter,” he replies, taking a cigarette out of his breast pocket. The footsteps resonate and reverberate on the walls and small alcoves—but in a couple of seconds, he feels soft, calm puffs of breath on his nape and scowls. Better a scowl than a shiver or a compromising sound.

“These will kill you, captain,” the demon whispers on his skin and Rex doesn’t need to see his smile to know it’s stretching on his face. There’s a finger as black as obsidian caressing the tip of his cigarette; the gesture has no business being this lewd but, seeing _who_ ’s doing it, it’s not really surprising, is it?

A last gentle stroke on the tip then the finger slides all the way to Rex’s lip. Smoke swirls, invades his lungs when he sucks on the filter, poisoning his body and releasing chemicals he’d become addicted to ever since Cody left.

“You’d like that,” Rex retorts just because he can. It’s true—they both know it. He takes a long drag, sees the tip light up as bright as the demon’s eyes, and he only raises an eyebrow when two foreign fingers carefully take the cigarette out of his mouth.

“Perhaps.” The laugh that follows settles in the crook of Rex’s neck; there's no mana behind it but the power emanating from this voice makes it impossible not to tense. “Did you come all the way here for me?”

There's the nausea hitting—a wave of bitterness that tastes like insect juices seeping through his teeth. “You know I did,” he mutters. There's no point in lying; wherever the demon goes, Rex must follow. 

And there—soft lips on his ear lobe, the tip of a nose on his temple and the quiet, shuddering gasp of unrepentant lust.

“You are mine, my dear captain,” the demon whispers with impatient want. He gives Rex his cigarette again, placing it delicately between his lips and he moans when he feels him taking a drag. The smoke is thicker than it should be; it pushes through his mouth and gives him the impression of a deep blowjob. 

“Not yet,” Rex says roughly. Even his throat feels sore—and not like it would if he chain-smoked all night. The cigarette is gone once again but there are sharp teeth nibbling at his ear lobe.

“Exquisite,” the demon says with a shrill chuckle. “Your taste invades my mind.”

“My taste,” he repeats with a frown. Around them the air shifts. What is he waiting for? “What do you mean?”

“You taste like rain on feverish skin,” the demon whispers, shivering with need. “You taste like rough sex in silk sheets. I want you to fuck me senseless as much as I want to fuck you until you pass out.”

Rex swallows. “Straight to the point, today,” he rasps. The demon laughs.

“Isn't that what you want? Don't you love it when I talk to you this way?” He licks a stripe on his jaw and says, “Can I make you come with my voice in your ear detailing everything I want to do to you?”

Rex doesn't say anything because they both know he can. The silence stretches. The demon shivers, overwhelmed by his own power, and _there._ Around them the mana stirs. 

“Maul,” Rex whispers as a warning. The mana stills. “You know why I'm here.”

The demon hisses but his face stays in the crook of his neck—a possessive arm locks around him and squeezes sharply. Rex closes his eyes and wills his heart to stay steady. 

“Enough with your pity,” Maul hisses. “If you add feelings to this, I'll just leave and eat someone else.”

“Don't joke about that,” he snaps, fists clenching. The demon huffs.

“I am not,” he retorts. “Despite what you may think, I _do_ go hungry.”

“Why didn't you call me, then?”

“Where were you these last months?” Maul snarls. “You abandoned me.”

Rex winces. “It's not—”

“Yes, it is,” the demon says, cutting him off with a growl. “You chose to follow _him_ knowing fully well you may never come back.”

“That's not true,” he tries to argue. He can hear how weak his voice is and grimaces.

“You know as well as I do how dangerous Hell is,” Maul snaps. “The Christians don't joke with eternal punishment, do they?”

“Well. They're not the only ones.” Rex sighs. “How many did you kill?”

The demon sniffs, nibbling at his skin. “I fail to see why it matters,” he mumbles. “I ate a couple of mortals—so what? They die everyday. A couple more to the list shouldn't matter.”

“How many?” The demon stays silent, nuzzling his neck. “Maul.”

“Not many,” he mutters. “A dozen, maybe.”

“A dozen?”

“A couple of dozens.” Silence. “Less than a hundred.”

Rex closes his eyes and tries to swallow down the bile.

“Oh, please. They would've died anyway. I just accelerated the process.” Around them the mana shifts—there's a shudder of alert then silence. 

Guilt isn't something Rex was born with and his dad, as fucked up as he was, never instilled it in him or his brothers. It's a trait that was passed onto him by Constantine. As much as he’s grateful for all the knowledge he shared with him, if he could forget everything else about the Brit, he would in a heartbeat. 

Ever since Cody left, it’s been more or less difficult for Rex to remember his roots rather than adopt Constantine’s questionable coping mechanisms. 

“Stay with me,” the demon whispers in his hair. “I can sense your mind is elsewhere.”

It’s dangerous what he’s doing. He knows it is. But it’s not like he got good role models in life—between an absentee father, a brother who left him for dead and _Constantine,_ it’s not like he had a lot of choice, did he?

“Find us a bedroom,” the demon says, nuzzling his neck. “I want to shout your name for others to hear.”

This isn’t what Rex came for.

“Alright,” he rasps anyway because it's always been difficult to say no to him—and this time isn't any different. The cigarette comes back and Rex takes a long drag, the smoke invading his lungs and he swears he can feel the rot inside him expand. Maul kisses his neck tenderly then he isn’t here anymore.

It wasn’t always like that. The lines used to be much clearer. Somewhere along the way, they began to blur until Rex wasn’t even able to make the difference. Must’ve been when he left his volcano to see the rest of the world.

He leaves the abandoned train station and takes his time. Maul had him come all the way here—he can wait a little. 

Out of all American cities, Gotham is the one Rex loathes the most. The mana is strong here, especially considering how the White Man more or less erased all traces of it with his structures of metal and his belief in religious exclusivity. The burial grounds have been swallowed up by greed and—Shit. He’s getting bitter with age, isn’t he? He takes another cigarette between his lips once he’s come back above the earth and looks around. There’s no one in the streets at this hour; it’s not unusual for a city as rotten as this one, especially since there’s nothing open here at night except for a suspicious bodega with no cats in sight. Rex shrugs. He snaps his fingers, holds the small flame he created on the tip of his index and lights his cigarette. The mana inside him growls with hunger. It’s not often he lets some of it seep out—and unfortunately it means it’s difficult to make it _stay inside_ when he does. 

“Captain,” a deep voice growls and Rex has to stop himself from tensing. He didn’t sense him coming. He looks up.

There’s a bat glaring at him from one of the fire escape platforms. He stops himself from cursing. It really _was_ too much to hope he wouldn’t cross path with either of them.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Rex mutters, eyes narrowing. The bat doesn’t move. The stance is the same but—it’s something about the mana around him. He only felt the Big Bat once, when he was with Constantine and the Brit didn’t have any choice but to call on the costume party, and this isn’t him. “You’re one of his little birds, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t receive any reply. He wasn’t expecting one anyway.

“You here to give me a warm welcome?” Rex taunts. The flame above his finger is swallowed up again; he takes a long puff and chuckles low in his throat. So far, he never needed to interact with the masquerade ball and he’d like to keep it that way—but here being Gotham, Rex will play nice. “I just want to take care of your Aitu issue.”

“You are not welcome here, dragon child,” the bat growls. Rex can’t help it; he laughs.

“That’s a new one,” he says with a snort. “Aren’t you a little young to call me a child, though?”

The bat remains silent. Rex huffs, shaking his head, and walks away. It doesn’t take long before his path is obstructed. “Listen. I’ll be gone tomorrow,” he tells him with a sigh. The bat doesn’t budge. “You may be wearing the Big Bat’s costume but we both know you’re not him, baby bird.”

For a single, tiny instant, Rex feels a flash of violent hurt emanating from the mana. He almost stills, afraid that flinching would disturb it and have it lash out, but the hurt is gone as soon as it appeared. “What happened,” he rasps, his trembling fingers going to his lips so he can take a long puff and pretend his breath is shaking because of the cold air. 

The bat doesn’t reply but it’s clear Rex brushed an open wound without intending to. If he were someone else, he doubts he would notice. The kid is good—better than most, really—but the only people Rex can’t feel are the dead. Even the Big Bat he could feel—a weak connection, though, weaker than with this one but still. 

“It’s not my business,” he grunts. “I don’t do the whole martial art thing so I’m not going to figh—”

“Lie,” the bat says. And there—he’s got the tone. The unnerving, calm but alarmingly threatening tone of the Big Bat is something others dream to achieve but this one seems like he’s on the right track. Rex smiles. Constantine told him the bats know pretty much everything there is to know when the underworlds aren’t concerned. Thank fuck they never took an interest in something other than the tangible. 

“I don’t want to fight, though,” Rex says. “I won’t wreck your city if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The bat’s eyes narrow. How does he do that with a mask on?

“You worked with Constantine in the past,” the bat says. Rex snorts.

“Yeah, well. Can’t work with him now, can I?” He shrugs. “Would be difficult with him being in Hell and all that.”

The bat stays silent. Rex smokes and looks around. Somehow, the light seems to like that one; it’s a bit surprising for a bat. From what he can remember, the shadows used to shiver and welcome the previous one’s presence among them. 

It’s clear this one isn’t happy. Chances are, he’s doing that out of duty. It’s not Rex’s business. He shouldn’t interfere. 

“Lead the way,” the bat says. Rex almost coughs.

“Excuse me?”

“You know where the Aitu is.”

“Well, yeah,” he replies, dumbstruck. “Do you know how to get rid of him?” The bat doesn’t reply. For a long moment, Rex stares at him. “You don’t know,” he says, looking for confirmation. He gets none. “There’s two ways to get rid of him—and I don’t think you’re going to like the one you can actually contribute to.”

The silence stretches. Constantine never said this bunch was so uncooperative but it’s not terribly surprising.

“You either destroy Gotham and leave the land to rest,” Rex says with a raised eyebrow, “Or you give him what he wants. If you don’t, he’ll stay. The mana is strong here. He can feed on it more easily.”

“What he wants,” the bat repeats. 

“He wants me,” Rex states. “Hence why I’m here.”

“The people who disappeared,” the bat begins and Rex shakes his head.

“They’re dead.” He averts his gaze. He saw the places. Everywhere someone died, their silhouettes remain like atomic shadows patterned in Maul's markings. “I’m sorry.”

The bat doesn’t react. Rex takes a last drag then tosses his cigarette on the ground; he has the urge to take it back but stops himself from calling it to his hand. Now that he has nothing to busy himself with, he shifts from one foot to the other. He used to be able to stand still for hours—now he can’t. 

There’s a lot of things he used to be able to do but now can’t. Rex tries not to linger too much on them.

“You brought him here,” the bat accuses. “Why.”

“I didn’t,” he retorts, snarling. Next to them, a street lamp flickers. Rex takes a deep breath and calms down. This is why he hates Gotham—the mana is so thick here it easily shifts with his temper. He misses his volcano right now. “But I’ll take care of him.”

The bat isn’t easy to shake off; it takes Rex a lot of coaxing but eventually he leaves him alone. He wouldn’t be surprised there’s a baby bird somewhere around watching over him. As long as they understand he’s not here to mess with their city, he couldn’t care less about it. 

Gotham is an ugly thing. It’s full of history yet everything is still young; the old magic has been buried underneath long enough to be almost entirely forgotten. It’s starving and latching onto everything it can get its claws on—and unfortunately Rex is a Michelin-starred meal. He makes a quick turn in and ends up in a dead-end alley that smells of human piss and rot that only cockroaches could get attracted to. He takes another cigarette between his lips and lights it instinctively. This is going to be the last stop.

Rex lied to the bat. He’s sure the bat knows. There’s another way to get rid of the demon—it’s just that Rex doesn’t want to come to this. 

He takes a drag on his cigarette, rubs his hands together and relaxes his shoulders. The words come to him naturally; they form where his stomach resides, full of rage and hunger, and they rise up in his throat, burning bright and they scorch the air around him as soon as they leave his lips. Rex spits his cigarette and smashes it between his palms. It burns through his skin, the rot seeping through his flesh and he growls, walking quickly towards the brick wall facing him. Smoke comes out of his mouth and he touches the surface now melting around his fingertips—he pushes through, ignoring the surge of surprise flaring behind him. There’s a baby bird who’s flying back to the nest with its tail between its legs tonight. Rex can't give two shits about it. 

The other side of the wall ends up being in the middle of nowhere. He takes a look at the sky. It’s clean. He’s still over the surface then. There’s not much around him. The road he’s on is old, the asphalt crumbling. There’s an abandoned gas station some two-hundred metres away. Judging by the landscape, he’d wager Nevada. Maybe. Rex hates this country so he’s not entirely sure but that’s what he pictures when he tries to remember the films he saw about the deserts in North America. 

Rex sits down for a while, lights a cigarette and waits. He needs to make a choice now. He already missed his first shot—he could’ve done it in the tube but he chose not to.

Waiting isn’t doing anything good. As time passes, Maul grows bolder, more vicious and hungrier. For him to come on this continent is a big step. Rex is afraid the demon realized the potential this place offers to the underworlds—especially for the forgotten ones. 

As a demon hunter, Rex knows he’s not doing his job. As the last of his kind, he acknowledges that it’s hard to do his job when Maul is concerned. 

_You are mine,_ the demon had whispered on his skin as soon as he found him. _I will have you forever once this world abandons you._

_I am no one’s_ , Rex had snarled, fighting against restraints he’ll never be able to take away. _I am free._

His hand goes to touch his ribs. The mark is still here—it will be for eternity. He’s had a taste of freedom, for a while. He forgot everything, went to make a name for himself, served in the tribe of the god of war and became a captain. Things went to shit eventually. 

He wonders if the land is cursed with old gods here as well. He has no idea. He’s only interested in his own and unfortunately the sole one the Christians worship since it devoured the majority of his pantheon. If the tribes had gods here, he doesn’t know—but the magic is rotting. It flirts with the mana that took permanent residency in his body. He’s stronger on this continent, there’s no denying it. He also plays a dangerous game because of it. 

The sooner he leaves this place, the better.

Rex stands up, takes a last drag and proceeds to do as he did earlier, except this time he passes through the earth.

It’s hard on his body to walk from one place to another like this—but now he’s certain none of the bats know where he is. He looks around. He’s in Gotham, that much is certain. Where exactly, though. It doesn’t really matter, does it?

There’s something beneath the asphalt; he feels it vibrate and shudder beneath his feet. Rex scowls. The sooner he’s out of this city, the better. It doesn’t seem very surprising people tend to go madder here than anywhere else—the earth reeks of malevolent energy; even the mana, as powerful as it is close to ancient burial grounds, is affected by it. Rex feels uncomfortable in his own skin, like there’s too much inside him that wants _out._ It’s not necessarily untrue—but whenever he’s in Gotham the feeling is like an itch he can’t scratch. 

There’s a motel nearby.

He’s hit with the image of Maul on his hands and knees, moaning loudly and clutching the sheets tightly to the point of almost tearing them. They're in Vietnam this time, in a room with no windows but it doesn't matter—they're not here for the view. They're way past curfew; the shadows around them whisper and thrive, the mana shuddering with hunger. _Harder,_ the demon begs with a gasp, his entire body moving with the force of Rex’s thrusts—and Maul writhes and whines like he can’t get enough. 

_Feed me,_ the demon snarls. He's halfway gone, breathing heavily and he can't stop himself from shuddering, letting out a broken _ah_ when Rex slows the rhythm to fuck him deep. He's trying to talk—probably an order for Rex to get rougher or take him faster—but his words keep getting twisted into wanton moans and he sobs whenever Rex’s hips slap hard against his ass.

Must be what fucking an incubus feels like, he thinks, watching Maul turn his head so he can look at him over his shoulder with heavy lidded eyes and a sinful grin. If the demon ever loses himself for good, there's no doubt in Rex's mind what he'll become. Maul is strong, intimidating, and he exudes confidence and arrogance. He's also sex in its darkest form, full of entrancing promises and alluring like a forbidden secret. 

Rex's throat tightens; his hands clench without his permission. _No,_ Maul growls, like he always does when he can sense Rex’s guilt.

They used to be different—less prone to anger and more likely to play with mortals out of sheer boredom. But now they go hungry. Things changed along the way; when the White Man arrived he brought a new set of beliefs and the mortals adapted. So they did as well because being forgotten is what will make them disappear—and for immortals there is nothing more horrifying than to stop existing. 

Maul evolved into temptation for the forbidden sins; he grew hungrier, greedier and angrier. Every time Rex sees him again he can see what's been lost forever and what is slowly replacing him.

Love is a concept Rex knows all too well—it means seeing the changes and being forced to either accept them or suffer through. He's come to accept Cody’s departure. He's come to accept he can't do it with Maul.

They used to play with mortals for fun—to kill boredom or just to see who could do what. But now they go hungry. 

Vietnam is the third time Maul ate mortals to sate his hunger. It's the first time Rex understands there's no going back. 

_Fuck me harder,_ Maul begs between sobs, body writhing with lust and exhaustion. He raises his head to whine, pleading, and he drops back down, shoulders shaking, mind muddled by want and desire. It's always been difficult to say no to him. This time isn't any different.

Rex blinks. Where is he? One of the street lamps flickers. Gotham. He's in Gotham. How long has he been standing here?

There's a motel nearby. Rex crosses the street and walks to it with his hands in his pockets. There's something fluttering with leathery wings at the tips of his fingers. He scowls. A gift from Constantine is _never_ a gift—it's either a curse or a broken thing made to illustrate his guilt over you. Rex hates this trench coat with his entire being. He can't stop himself from wearing it, though. 

He pushes the door open; the clerk doesn't look up from his book. The radio is playing next to him. It's not something modern—it's an old song recorded with poor devices; it scratches and goes quieter at random. The mana inside him shudders and focuses on it. There’s something wrong with that song. Rex can’t put his finger on _what_ is wrong, though. But the mana is too interested for his liking.

“For the night or the hour?” the clerk asks. It's that kind of establishment, then. 

“For the night,” he replies. “Single king or queen. I need a room with a mirror.”

“What? On the ceiling? What kind of place do you think this is?”

Rex raises an eyebrow and stares at him. Since the clerk doesn’t look up, his sarcasm is lost to the horrendous carpeted walls. 

“Just a mirror—doesn’t have to be on the ceiling,” he says. It could be fun if it were but Rex isn’t really difficult. At that, the clerk perks up.

“You alone?” Rex nods. The clerk gives him a once over. “No more than two guests. I find there’s four of you in there; you’re out and you pay a fee.”

He pays upfront, asks not to be disturbed and the clerk lets him go without another glance.

The motel is as dingy as American films make them out to be. The people roaming in the corridors watch him pass by with varying degrees of interest; he can hear theatrical moans and disgusting grunts and wheezes at practically each door he walks by. 

He walks into his room, closes the door and leans his back against it.

He’s hit with the image of Maul pinning him to the wall, fucking him with all his might, his hands spreading Rex’s legs wider so he can make him bounce with his thrusts. Rex pants heavily, head thumping against the wall behind him, and can’t help the litany of _fucks_ and _heartses_ and _Mauls_ coming out of his mouth. _Don’t stop,_ he moans feeling himself getting higher and higher with each thrust. Maul laughs viciously against his cheek and pounds him harder making Rex’s eyes open wide—he comes dry with a startled shout, body thrashing uncontrollably.

_Feed me,_ the demon growls, fucking him hard and fast, hands clawing at his flesh and Rex sobs. He tries to move on his own but realizes he can't; the angle Maul chose forces him to take it without any sort of control. He gasps, feels the demon’s hips slam again and again, cock reaching deep inside him, stroking his prostate with each hard thrust and Rex starts shouting loud and unrestrained moans like a fucking whore. 

He releases a shuddering breath and blinks. He’s in Gotham. He's inside the motel. He's on his own.

He can do it. He has to do it.

He looks at the single window and takes a cigarette out of his breast pocket. He crosses the room and glances at the mirror. He closes his eyes when he realises his mistake. 

“Captain,” Maul whispers. Rex refuses to look at the mirror. The demon laughs. Rex tries to light his cigarette with his finger; he can’t. The mana inside him goes silent and he cannot feel much around him. “Powerless, already?”

“You’d like that,” he retorts weakly but still walks to stand in front of the mirror. “I need a lighter.”

The demon coils himself around him in his reflection; Rex can’t feel him yet but it’s a matter of seconds before he’ll be once again tangible. 

Like all of his brothers, Rex was born from the belly of a volcano. Like all of his brothers, Rex lost his freedom to another entity who saw the power inside him and decided to possess it. _You are mine,_ the demon had said to him, his hand on Rex’s ribs marking him for eternity. 

_I am no one’s,_ he had repeated, pushing him and running away before the demon’s hold on him would be irreversible.

“Hello, captain,” Maul whispers against his ear, a smile stretching across his face, watching their reflection in the mirror. Rex closes his eyes and can feel him around him, his hands dancing across him, fingers brushing a nipple through the clothes. He shivers and lets himself be turned around as the demon sees fit.

“You’re almost there,” Maul whispers against his lips, hand curling softly around Rex’s own, tempting and taunting him. “You must be very proud; you’re going to accomplish what mortals can only dream to achieve.”

Rex swallows dryly. “What,” he rasps, not wanting to know the answer. Maul smiles—he can feel it against his mouth.

“We’re the only ones left,” the demon says with a tender kiss. “Haven’t you realized that by now?” The moan he offers Rex is performative but it still elicits a shiver out of him. “Genocide at its finest, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you,” Rex snarls but Maul only laughs.

“Oh, I intend to fuck _you_ actually,” he whispers, claiming his lips before he can say anything else.

Rex has to do it. He knows he has to. So what is he waiting for?

He feels him become fully tangible; Maul has him walk backwards until his knees buckle and he falls on the bed. The demon doesn’t leave him room to think—he lies on top of him and takes his hands in his own, carding their fingers together and raising them over Rex's head. He kisses him deeply, a promise of toe-curling sex and it's shameful how quickly Rex submits to Maul’s whim. 

“Tell me I can,” the demon whispers against his lips, rolling his hips slowly. He chuckles. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

His hands roam over Rex's chest; he opens each button starting from the top and goes all the way down, pushing it open and staring like one would with a present. His eyes slide back up to Rex’s and he goes down, mouthing his collarbone. When he takes a nipple in his mouth he moans and nibbles, a victorious grin splitting his face in two. Rex curses, hand keeping him there by clutching at the back of his head. 

“Would you like to fuck my mouth, captain?” Maul purrs, biting his lip. Rex shudders, swallowing loudly, but he pushes the demon's head down to his groin silently. “Eager, are we?”

“Shut up,” he mutters through gritted teeth. Maul laughs warmly, and looks at him with heavy lidded eyes, hands making quick work of his belt and button while his teeth slowly pull his zip open. “Fuck,” he curses, eyes closing on their own when he feels Maul mouth him softly over his briefs.

“As I said earlier,” the demon whispers, kissing his navel. “I intend to.”

Maul sucks cock like it's a contest and the gold medal is actually the keys to the Valhalla—he uses every trick in the book and has honed his skills to a point where it's difficult to remember he didn't invent them all. What's certain is that he perfected them to the point of comparing even the best blow jobs in the history of all mortals to different iterations of a sad hand job between two drunkards who have nothing better to do. 

“Tell me you want this,” the demon rumbles before deepthroating him once again, moaning when he’s swallowed him down to the tip. He lets go of his cock abruptly to nuzzle his inner thigh. “Tell me you want me,” he whispers.

Rex clamps his mouth shut, his hand clenching; his fingers stroke Maul’s horns softly. He can’t talk. He’s too afraid of what he might say if he does. 

“Captain,” the demon calls, and it’s been so long since he’s heard even a hint of a _hint_ of uncertainty coming from him that Rex almost thinks he imagined it.

Fuck. “Yeah?” he asks even though he knows he shouldn’t.

Maul looks at him with doubt and whispers, “Do you want me?”

“I,” he rasps then falls silent. The demon stills. He doesn’t say anything. After a moment, Rex sits up and pulls him closer, his hand firm on the back of Maul’s head. “Why do you ask that?” he says roughly, heart hammering against his ribcage.

The demon observes him silently. His eyes slide down to Rex’s lips and when he gets closer Rex shuts his eyes and kisses him back slowly.

They take their time, Maul exploring his mouth like it’s the first time and maybe their last. When he pushes him back down on the bed without breaking the kiss Rex lets him and spreads his legs to curl them around the demon’s waist.

“Did Constantine fuck you like this?” the demon asks with a pointed roll of his hips, letting Rex’s cock smear pre come on his clothes. “Did you fuck him?”

Rex doesn't reply. Truth is they only did once—and they were drunk and messed up, and it was so sad they never talked about it ever again; they pushed their sad fuck under the rug and pretended nothing had ever happened.

“Am I a replacement?”

“No,” Rex gasps immediately, kissing him so the demon stops pulling answers out of his mouth. Maul shudders, moaning brokenly across his lips.

“Let me fuck you,” he growls, thrusting abruptly; Rex hisses. “I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he gasps, grinding against him like a teenager. “Come on. Hurry up.”

Maul sits up with a disgusted grimace. “Hurry up?” he repeats, offended. “Is this what you did with Constantine? ‘Hurry up’?”

Rex groans. “Oh for Christ’s sake, Maul.” 

_Shit._ Fucking idiot, he is. He closes his eyes.

“Christ?” is the pointed question.

“It's just an expression,” Rex mutters lamely. What's done is done. He fucked up. “It's not like that.”

“Are you going to call on God tonight? Perhaps you'd want us to do a blessing before I fuck your a—”

“That's not how it works,” he cuts off. “Just. Shut up.”

“I don't think I will,” Maul hisses. “Maybe we should call on the heavens. They could always learn a thing or two on how to properly fuck someone,” he says primly. “We could put on a good show, be this century’s entertainment for them considering how boring they get.” He huffs. “Yes, I can already imagine these pretentious pricks shaming the savages while still taking a peak between feathers.”

Rex sighs. “If you only need an audience to listen to one of your rants, I don't need to stay naked,” he mumbles. Fuck, he needs a smoke. “I'm cold.”

Maul stills. After a moment, he comes back on top of him, kissing his lips softly, and whispers, “Forgive me.”

Rex's eyes widen. The demon kisses his neck, slowly undressing, and he has to push him away.

“I want to see,” he says roughly, ignoring what Maul just said. He can't think about it too much—otherwise he might not do it.

The demon grins, tilting his chin up. He plays along, taking layers slowly, revealing gorgeous skin like it's the first time he does in front of someone else. He's a fucking wet dream come to reality, hitting all the right buttons like he's a sex bot programmed to get Rex off without even touching him. 

“Fuck,” he lets out when he sees him flick his own nipple and gasp like he doesn't know how it feels like to touch himself. “You like that?”

Maul whimpers, playing with himself, licking his fingertips and rubbing the nub, breathing heavily and thrusting in the air. Rex’s cock twitches at the sight. He groans.

“You like that, hearts?” he mutters again, smirking when Maul gasps at the nickname.

“Touch me,” the demon whines and Rex has half a mind to tell him there's a change of plan for tonight and he's going to fuck him until Maul sobs and writhes and cries and begs. He can already imagining him and his fucking voice echoing throughout the room, a litany of _captain, I've been good, so good—let me come, it hurts, let me come, I’ll do whatever you want, tell me it’s okay, I behaved, tell me I can, captain, just let me com—_

“Touch me,” the demon demands in a sob, his tone already edging towards desperation.

“Come here,” Rex whispers, shushing him when Maul sobs, kissing him frantically. “Slow down,” he says. “Easy—slow down. We got time.”

The demon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I'm hungry,” he admits. “I'm hungry.”

“It's alright,” Rex soothes. “Hey. Breathe.”

Maul blinks, shaking his head. “I don’t need you to tell m—” he hums in Rex’s mouth, getting sidetracked and lost in the kiss. The demon’s hands cradle his head and he becomes bolder, his tongue asserting dominance, slowly fucking his mouth.

It’s too bad Rex came empty handed because he would very much like for Maul to tie him up to the bed and fuck him until he can’t think straight.

The demon bites his lower lip sharply, almost drawing blood. “Care to share what you’re thinking about, captain?” he asks flippantly.

Rex grins.

“Remember Soweto?” he rumbles across his lips. Maul chuckles quietly, a hungry smile full of teeth growing on his face.

“I believe I do,” the demon mutters, biting his jaw with a low groan. “Do you have the necessary equipment?” Rex shakes his head briefly. “Ah. Unfortunate.”

“I have fond memories,” he replies. 

_Tighter,_ he remembers growling, hissing when the rope started biting at his wrists and under his knees. Maul was very creative that time; he bent him in half, tied his thighs to his chest and his wrists to the bed. He doesn't know what was the most frightening thing at first, maybe the ball gag or the cloth over his eyes—not the cock ring, though. In any case, before that time Rex never ever came as hard as he did. To be honest, he still hasn't topped it. 

“And I’ve a belt too,” he provides in a low rumble.

“You do not like belts,” Maul reminds him with a confused blink.

“No,” Rex confirms, his fingers grazing the demon's shoulder blades, sliding lower and lower until they settle on his ass, clawing at the skin, eliciting a shiver. “But you do.”

Soweto, still: two belts for Rex to hold tightly—one around Maul's wrists, tugging him from behind to have him on his knees struggling to keep the position Rex wanted him in; another one biting at his cheek, the leather forcing his mouth to stay open, having him bite on it with no possibility to keep silent. Maul shouted a lot that night, even cried, writhing and whining like an overstimulated pornstar. Rex had taken him from behind and fucked him like a toy; he made him come dry as much as he could, edged him over and over again, had him pass out right after Maul came. The following morning, they shared breakfast on the private balcony and Rex made love to him right there on the table, the sun kissing Maul’s skin. It's funny because Rex is certain he can still hear the demon’s soft, broken sighs and he remembers every lazy roll of Maul’s hips, every shiver and tender kiss like a dance he never wanted to end. 

He remembers every word, every demand and every plea from Soweto—the lustful, aggressive _could you fuck me like you mean it,_ the gentle, timid _can you kiss me like it's the first time,_ and even the forbidden, heart-wrenching _don't leave me again._

It’s probably the last time Rex truly felt like he hadn't entirely lost him yet.

“Do you remember the morning after,” Maul whispers in his mouth. Rex's chest constricts.

“I do,” he mutters painfully. He's certain Maul doesn't remember it like he does. He's certain the demon can't anymore.

But Maul still kisses him like he can; it starts shyly, with a silent demand for Rex to deepen it, a soft, breathy sigh when he does then a quiet moan when he truly takes the lead. 

“Finger me,” Rex orders in his mouth, pointing at his coat where the lube is, and Maul groans low in his throat to the point that it almost resembles a purr. 

There's something about Maul’s fingers that drives him wild; he's not sure exactly what it is. Maybe the way he uses them, maybe the power they hold, maybe a combination of many different things. In any case, Rex thinks it's great he doesn't deal with Hell and Heaven because there's no doubt he'd go to the first one for every single thought he ever had about those fingers. 

“I need a smoke,” he rasps when Maul is three fingers deep in his ass and scissoring him like it's his sole duty in life. The demon calls one to his own lips and lights it with a snap of his free hand; he takes a long drag and blows smoke on the ceiling.

“The smoke detector does not work,” Maul notes. It's reassuring to know he didn't notice _before_ blowing smoke right on top of it. Rex would really like it if people barged in here while he's moaning like a cheap whore because he's getting fingerfucked by a demon.

At least it wouldn't _really_ go against the motel’s ambiance. Funny.

“Not going to share, are you?” he asks dryly when he sees Maul smoking _his_ cigarette like it's his own. The demon smirks. “You're a bloodclaat bast— _ah, fuck, hearts, yes right—_ ”

“Bloodclaat?” Maul repeats mockingly then cackles; the bastard’s fingers keep teasing his prostate so Rex can't even say something because he's too busy trying to find air and stop writhing like he's possessed.

“M—Maul,” he gasps. Fuck those fingers. Fuck hi—oh that feels so good, the fuckin—

“Can you come from my fingers only, captain?” the demon purrs. They both know he can. One thing's certain: if Maul is somehow involved, Rex doesn't need to have his dick touched to come. That’s just how it is. He can count the number of times he had an unsatisfactory orgasm with the demon on one hand. And he actually grew really fond of them because the follow ups were really worth it.

“I'm going to if you keep going tha—ah, fuck you, you—”

“Did you kiss Constantine with that mouth?” Maul asks with false contempt. As if the Brit would be startled by a little swear word here and there. What a joke.

“Give me my smoke,” he tries to growl but since he whines at the end it's not really effective. The demon chuckles warmly; he takes a long drag, inhales slowly and leans down to graze Rex’s lips with his own. He exhales softly in his mouth and Rex moans.

“Bastard,” he repeats because this doesn't feel like smoke in his mouth—this feels like a hot cock and he knows that exact shape _intimately._ “If you want me to suck you off just fuck my mouth.”

“I have other plans,” the demon whispers with a shit eating grin.

Rex does too—but he’s stalling. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows it will only get worse if he does. 

“Kiss me,” he demands because Rex is a smart man but whenever Maul is concerned he becomes the most idiotic guy this earth has ever hosted. 

Maul grazes his ribs, where the mark resides, and it's such a surprisingly innocent gesture Rex has to push him away abruptly. He's panting. His back hits the headboard and he tucks his head between his legs and chest, arms keeping his bent knees up.

“Captain,” the demon calls softly but he doesn't touch him. Rex shakes his head.

“Don't,” he rasps between his thighs. He needs to breathe slower. He can’t make himself breathe slower. “You know you can't touch it. Why did you touch it?”

He can't stay on the bed; he gets up abruptly and pads to where his clothes are, blindly looking for his cigarettes. 

Shit. He needs to sit down for a minute. He's buck naked. The floor looks dirty and it probably is. “Fuck,” he curses, crouching anyway; his back against the old column radiator that was probably white at some point. The fingers holding his smoke are trembling like he's in need of a quick fix. He's fucking angry with himself. 

“Captain—”

“Don't fucking talk,” he snarls then flinches. “Just… Give me a minute.”

Of course Maul is a stubborn asshole who understands even less than Rex where mental health is concerned so he just ignores his command and comes to crouch in front of him, covering his bent knees with his scorching palms.

“I did not—” The demon falls silent then sighs in frustration. “I made a mistake.”

“Yes, you fucking did,” Rex spits. He takes a deep breath and just… puts all of this in a box. Somewhere. Some place where he can’t look or even think about it. He does that thing no one is supposed to do but it works and Rex is an idiot who thinks it'll work forever because he's fucking special or something.

Maul knows. He _knows_ he can't fucking touch the mark and Rex doesn't know if it's worse if he did it without meaning to or on purpose.

“Captain,” the demon mutters. “I made you a promise I—”

“Do you even remember it?” Rex snarls, head snapping up to glare at him. “Do you still care?”

Maul stills. “You know I do,” he whispers. 

But Rex doesn't. And that's the problem, isn't it? 

“Yeah,” he lies, clearing his throat. “Yeah.”

He covers the mark with his hand and breathes more easily. Maul’s fingers tighten on his knees. 

_You are mine,_ the demon had whispered when he captured Rex and trapped him into a form that couldn't harm him. _I_ _will have you forever once this world abandons you._

It's a weird thing to lose freedom when it's all you've ever known—at least it was for Rex. He tries to light the cigarette with his finger but realizes he can't anymore.

“Let me,” Maul whispers and Rex nods sharply, avoiding his gaze. He puts the tip of his finger on the end, circles it slowly, and Rex inhales quickly, lighting it up to touch Maul’s skin.

The demon can't feel it anymore, can't feel the burn and is immune to fire—all thanks to Rex. Maul saw an opportunity for power and seized it without any regard for anything that wasn't to his advantage. How typical.

“I shouldn't need your help,” Rex spits vehemently. The demon nods, frowning.

“No,” he confirms.

“Do you even regret it?”

Maul looks at him silently, eyes roaming over his face; he raises a hand to cup his cheek and Rex is a weak bastard so he leans against his palm.

“I regret my actions every day,” the demon mutters. “But I cannot regret meeting you.”

Rex swallows. He takes another drag, exhales slowly and shakes his head. “Kiss me,” he demands and of course Maul does. They brush lips softly and there's nothing in the demon’s movements that is brusque or aggressive. Rex hates it.

“Take me back to bed, hearts,” he says roughly. Maul stills for a second.

“Captain—”

“Carry me,” he orders. 

Maul does. He takes him in his arms and kisses him tenderly, slowly walking to the bed and Rex moans.

“Want you now,” he whispers against his lips, locking his ankles together to grind against him. “Maul.”

The demon groans in his mouth, hands clutching his ass tightly and Rex gasps. 

Maul sits on the bed then lies down slowly, hands pulling Rex down with him. With a flick of his fingers something moves behind Rex, screeching slightly. “The mirror,” the demon informs him then proceeds to flip him over so that Rex is now facing the ceiling, Maul’s chest rising and falling under him. The demon pushes them up, keeping Rex’s waist flushed against him and says, “Sit on me.” 

Rex looks before him and lets out a startled laugh. “Kinky bastard,” he mutters, watching Maul coils himself around him, covering his back and staring at the mirror before them. His glowing eyes rove over Rex’s form.

“You like it,” he mutters in his ear, biting his lobe and chuckling. His hands roam over his chest and he teases his nipples with expert fingers, drawing gasps out of him. “I want to fuck you like this.”

“Alright,” Rex sighs, eyes fluttering shut when he feels his cock slide between his cheeks. “Come on.”

Maul holds him up with careful hands around his hips; he lines himself up and Rex moans brokenly when he feels the head of his cock play with his entrance.

“Come on,” he whines, trying to grind down but Maul’s hold is too tight and controlled for him to move. “Come _on._ Fuck me you—” He stops mid-sentence to groan in relief.

The demon lets out a strangled grunt escape his lips; he takes his time, making Rex descend on his cock slowly. 

“M—Maul,” he lets out, impatient, and has to swallow down a sob. He's big and they both know it and they haven't fucked in a while but Rex doesn't want to wait. 

But the demon stays silent, breathing heavily and shakily but slowly on his back, and once Rex is fully seated he waits, kissing his skin softly.

“Come on,” he whispers like a plea, shivering. “Come on, hearts. Fuck me.”

Maul’s hand slides to his hips and he leans back; Rex glances at him over his shoulder and sees him holding himself up on one hand, eyes fixed to where they connect, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his face. He's so fucking beautiful it's infuriating.

Rex grinds down on him and moans when he realizes Maul lets him, the hand on his hip just here to caress him softly. He closes his eyes and laughs. If he wants a wild ride he won't be disappointed.

He rises up and sinks back down in a slow rhythm because Rex can be petty when he wants to and now he does. Behind him, the pants turn into breathy moans; he can't stop himself from glancing back and his eyes widen when he does. 

Maul is staring back at him with desperation in his eyes, so reminiscent of that morning in Soweto Rex almost stops for an instant. He hasn't… He blinks to make sure but the demon _is_ looking at him like that.

It's been a while since he looked at him like that, his wanton expression lacking the never-ending hunger that will haunt him forever. Rex has to avert his gaze. He can't look at him like that. Otherwise he might rethink the whole plan. He has to do it. He knows he does—he just needs to remember it at all times.

Rex tries to bounce a little, put on a more violent rhythm, wanting to be fucked not—not whatever _this_ is—but suddenly Maul holds him tighter, kisses between his shoulder blades and his arms embrace him like he can't get enough of him.

“What—” He rolls his hips and moans, trying to shake Maul out of his mood, but it only makes his hands caress his chest, his thumbs flicking Rex's nipples tenderly. 

The demon doesn't give him much room right now and he keeps them in this slow rhythm that has Rex's toes curling, air leaving his lungs only through shudders and hiccups. He whimpers, trying again, and Maul’s response is to kiss and nuzzle his back.

“No,” Rex begs. They can't do that; _Maul_ can't do that, not—not anymore, not—“No.”

“Captain,” the demon mutters against his shoulder, lips laying love on his skin, and Rex breaks down—his knees fail him. If it weren't for Maul’s tight hold, he'd be down on the fucking floor sobbing. 

The demon stands up, cock deeply seated inside Rex, and his arms coil themselves tightly around him; he fucks him slowly, lovingly, mouth latching onto his neck, hands caressing him with soft strokes. 

_I love you,_ Rex wants to admit to the walls of a dingy motel room full of questionable stains. He looks at himself standing in front of the mirror, getting slowly fucked by Maul; he sees the beads of sweat and how his hands are reaching back, holding onto the demon’s ass, and he can’t stop himself. His throat bobs with each slow thrust, his body shudders and Rex has to close his eyes because he's ashamed of how wanton and _owned_ he looks.

He thought he'd lost this side of Maul for good; they've been fucking again and again and again but it's been so long since Maul made love to him Rex was certain the demon didn't know how to anymore.

But it's clear he does. 

“Don’t,” he pleads softly in a shameful whisper and Maul exhales a soft moan in his ear. When he twists him to be able to kiss, Rex tries to meet him halfway and gasps, “No.” He can’t do this. He can’t do it. “Hearts,” he says. “Stop.”

Maul stills.

Rex pulls himself away, ignoring the lewd sounds; he pads to the other side of the room and takes a deep breath.

“Capt—”

“Don’t.” He has to do it. What is he waiting for? He gasps a broken laugh. “You know, don’t you?”

The demon stays silent. Rex turns back to look at him. “I fucking hate your eyes,” he spits to stop himself from sobbing.

“Why?” Maul says with a narrow look, cocking his head to the side; he takes a step forward, the motion deliberate and slow. “Because they remind you of what you did?” he taunts with a small, vicious smirk. He takes a step, and another, slowly advances towards him like a predator cornering a prey. He’s beautiful in the low lighting, markings swirling over his sinful form, and there’s no doubt he knows it well. “Do you think Anakin’s are the same now?”

“Fuck you,” he growls. “You don’t get to say his name.” 

The demon laughs, a low, shiver-inducing thing that implies poison and sex.

“Anakin isn't—” Rex swallows heavily, shaking his head in denial. “He's not—”

“We are the only ones left, captain,” Maul whispers, circling him. He brushes his ear with his lips and asks, “Or have you forgotten what you did?”

“I—”

“You ignored the signs, my dear captain. He was losing his self in front of you and you did nothing.” He kisses below his ear tenderly. “And when you tried to kill him it was too late. Did you see him when you were in Hell?”

Rex closes his eyes. “No,” he admits. He's not sure he'd still be here if he did. 

Out of all of them, Anakin really _is_ Rex’s biggest fuckup, isn't he?

“I didn't look for him,” he mutters. “And I'm sure he knew I was here.” But he didn't try to find him anyway. Not very surprising, is it? “Fuck you, Maul.”

The demon moans in his neck, nipping the skin playfully. “If you want,” he rumbles. “What are you waiting for, then?”

What is he waiting for? He knows he has to do it.

“Shut up,” Rex growls, curling his hand around the demon’s horns and pulling his head down violently. Maul hisses—Rex bites his neck sharply, drawing a loud moan out of his throat.

“Are you hungry?” he taunts, licking at his skin. The demon shivers.

“Yes,” he hisses. “Feed me.”

“Ask nicely,” he whispers. Maul tenses; he strokes his horns and grins when he feels him melt against him. “You want me on all fours or you want me to fuck you properly?” 

Maul whines.

“How do you want me?” Rex asks with a chaste kiss. The demon tries to deepen it and sobs when he is denied.

It used to be disarming how easy it is to have him desperate and pliant when he is hungry. Now it just hurts to see. 

“Maul,” he calls. “How do you want me?”

The demon blinks, trying to focus. “Captain,” he says. He leans closer and kisses him softly. Rex's heart constricts.

He knows. There's no doubt he does.

“Stop,” Rex whispers but he still deepens the kiss, moaning in the demon’s mouth. “Take me to bed.”

Maul holds him up and carries him silently, looking at him with a small smile. “Do you want me?” he asks.

_I want you,_ Rex remembers saying against his lips. _But not like this._

Like all his brothers, Rex lost his freedom to an entity who saw the power in him and yearned to possess it. But Rex fought and snarled and kicked for his freedom—he tamed the demon and made him understand if he wanted Rex then he would have him of his own volition. 

_Free me,_ he had pleaded, appealing to Maul’s better senses. 

The demon let him go. Rex came back because he wanted to—it was his choice and they were equals.

_You will never touch it,_ he told him, his palm covering the mark. _You will never take my freedom away._

“I want you,” Rex admits. When Maul kisses him, he closes his eyes and forgets about everything else.

They don't fuck. What they do is Rex tells him to lie down on the bed; he takes him like this, riding him slowly, watching Maul’s open mouth and the way he whines, craning his neck each time Rex clenches around him. It's a slow dance; they take their time. Rex is shaking so much he's sobbing and Maul’s hands around his hips are trembling with him.

“I want you,” he sobs, gasping when he hears Maul’s broken moan. 

“Do you remember when you fell in love with me?” Rex whispers, his hands roaming over his chest, feeling the dual beatings of his hearts. “Do you remember what it felt like?”

The demon groans at a particular roll of his hips, thrashing for an instant.

“Tell me you remember,” he demands, picking up the pace. “Maul.”

The demon's eyes open, flaring, and he flips them over abruptly. He fucks him into the mattress brutally, making Rex shout, writhing beneath him.

“Feed me,” Maul growls, teeth gnawing at his neck. He pounds him hard and fast, a constant feral growl rumbling in his chest. Rex’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he knows he's loud and the people outside can probably hear him but he can't stop. 

“Feed me,” Maul repeats and Rex shakes his head to clear his thoughts, taking hold of the demon’s horns harshly to have him still.

“Not too long,” Rex whispers. Maul whines. He kisses his face to comfort him. “I can’t do it for long.”

“Feed me,” the demon pleads, sobbing. “I'm hungry.”

“I know,” he soothes, stroking his horns. “I know.”

Rex swallows and tries not to react when he hears him whine again. He's starving. There's no denying it. 

There's that feeling again. The one that’s been easier to ignore since the mana hid deeper inside. It’s nausea. 

“I’m hungry,” Maul repeats brokenly in a whisper, voice cracking. “I’m so hungry.”

It’s difficult to witness him like this sometimes. Scratch that. It’s difficult all the time. Rex knows they don’t have a choice but it doesn’t mean he likes it. It’s his fault anyway, isn’t it? He’s the one who decided to starve all of them.

“I’m sorry,” he says against plaintive lips, claiming them egotistically. “I’m sorry, hearts.”

Maul doesn’t answer but he lets himself be kissed and doesn’t try to ask again. Rex can’t stand it. He should growl, try to put up a fight. But the demon just waits, hoping submission will make the reward sweeter.

It’s fucking disgusting and it’s all Rex’s fault.

“Okay,” he whispers in the demon’s mouth. “Just a little, okay?”

Maul’s voice hurts to hear—it’s soft and subdued and afraid. He whines again, unable to form the words he wants because he knows it won’t change a fucking thing. 

“Hold onto me,” Rex says, curling his hand around the demon’s throat. Maul’s entire body stiffens in reaction and he closes his eyes—fast-paced breaths making his chest rise and fall with anticipation.

Rex strangles him, clutching his throat tightly; he lets the mana seep through his skin, old words escaping through his lips like poisonous tar. His veins light up, and the mana bursts out through his pores only to coat his arm in a dangerous flow that seeks to devour Maul’s entire being. It’s as close as he can get to his true form—and in a place like Gotham it’s dangerous and reckless.

Maul becomes a ragdoll as soon as the mana touches him.

It’s always terrifying to see lava around the demon’s throat; it burns his flesh and invades him insidiously—Rex can see it flow inside him, lighting up veins that no one should be able to see through melting flesh. The demon’s eyes open and they’re already unrecognizable, alien and as dark as basalt—two lifeless rocks to remind Rex what his choice did to all of them.

“That’s enough,” he rasps but the demon groans, lava oozing out of his mouth, burning his lips.

“More,” he whispers and Rex can hear his voice caressing his flesh, picking and pinching in hunger, trying to find a weakness to exploit. “I want more.”

The power inside Rex growls, hunger growing more insistent. Gotham stills, waiting, but what lies underneath the city seems to stir, strange pulses shuddering through the mana around them. Rex shivers. It feels like sex in its darkest form—it feels like Maul coiling himself around him.

“Yes,” the demon rasps, tears of lava scorching his cheeks. “Give it to me.”

He needs to stop.

“I’m sorry,” Rex mutters and Maul wails when he feels the mana leaving him slowly, summoned back to Rex’s flesh. Gotham growls and hisses—whatever tied itself to it rumbles then goes back to the earth.

“Please,” the demon begs, trying to move, but Rex’s hold on his throat is too tight and he won’t be able to even twitch before he lets go of him. “Please. I need mor—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, talking over the pleas before he does something fucking stupid. He tries to kiss him but Maul is writhing, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily through the pain of having his flesh mend itself as fast as it can, uncaring of the implications of creating pathways of nerves and flesh and nerves and bones and skin and blood and anything that _isn’t_ what Maul seeks and craves.

For Aitu, being forgotten means being dead—and with time mortals begin to forget their existence, to refute their stories and choose other ones. Before they could understand what was happening all of them were already gone. Rex’s siblings started to solidify until there was nothing left of them but rocks for mortals to study. He saw spirits turn into ashes, fertilizing soil and giving mortals trees for them to cut through.

He saw other immortals lure them until they could either twist them enough to join their ranks or feed upon them until there was nothing left to devour. When Cody left to mingle with the winged bastards, Rex called him a traitor and spit on his memory. When Anakin disappeared and came back as a monster, he knew he had to do something. 

He went to the belly of the volcano he was born in and implored the old gods to help them. 

_What can you give us, child?_ they said.

_Myself,_ he replied. The gods laughed.

_You do not own yourself,_ they told him. _Your flesh isn’t yours to give._

_Then,_ he mutters. _I don’t know what to give you._

_We want what you own,_ they said. _We want your most precious possession._

Rex took a step back. _No,_ he pleaded. _Anything but him._

_We are sorry, child,_ they said. _But we starve as well._

“I’m sorry, hearts,” Rex repeats, cradling Maul so he can feel his skin heal against his own. The demon pants in the crook of his neck. After a moment, he sighs in relief. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Maul whispers softly. His hand slides from Rex’s shoulder to his wrist, then the demon tangles their fingers together and takes a deep breath.

It’s fucking disgusting because Maul just molted right on top of him only to be rebuilt raw but Rex is still hard. He hates himself for it. Every time he lets the mana seep out there is this delicious feeling of overwhelming power and he hungers for _more._ If he stopped thinking he thinks he could devour Maul without even noticing.

The demon shifts. His abdomen clenches when he feels Rex’s cock against him.

“Captain,” Maul whispers, kissing his skin and slowly moving against him. The demon isn’t hard anymore. Not very surprising.

“You don’t—”

“I want you,” the demon says, cutting off Rex’s sentence. He’s kissing him feverishly, hands roaming over his skin. He’s fucking high. “I want you,” he repeats impatiently and he whines when he notices Rex doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as he is. “You don’t want me?”

Not like this, he wants to say though he may be a bastard but he still has limits. 

“You know I do,” he whispers, closing his eyes and kissing his forehead chastely. It doesn’t do the trick. Maul groans, shivering, and he closes his lips around one of his nipples to suck, making him hiss and writhe. Rex glances down; the demon has a hand around his cock. He’s trying to get hard again. “Hey, hey, hearts, you don’t have t—”

“But I want to,” Maul mumbles on his chest, licking his skin sloppily. He grins and chuckles, eyes closed. “I want you. I want you.”

There’s the nausea again. Rex swallows down the bile. He’s not stupid enough to _not_ see sex is now a prelude to Maul’s fix—but he’s still hoping sex isn’t actually Maul’s twisted version of an exchange of currency. If he fucks him well maybe Rex will give him more.

He sincerely hopes it’s not the case but these days he’s not so sure anymore. And he still doesn’t stop it because he’s still a fucking bastard, isn’t he. No wonder he wants to fucking throw up every time he decides to use his brain for a short instant.

The demon laughs victoriously when his cock hardens. “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he whispers around his nipple. Poetry, really. 

Maul does. He flips him on his stomach, facing the mirror, and he fucks him raw, teeth gnawing at his shoulders. “Mine,” he snarls when he picks up the pace; Rex’s cock slaps against his own stomach with each thrust and his throat vibrates continuously, the moans being partitioned only because Maul fucks him hard enough for Rex to have his breath cut off at each pound.

The demon leans back, kneeling proud and tall on the bed, admiring himself in the mirror as he rails him like a common whore on his hands and knees.

“Look at yourself, captain,” he purrs with a rich laugh, hand caressing his skin, fingers pressing on his spine ordering him to arch his back.

Rex raises his head to take a look at himself and he whines. He looks like a fucking whore. Well, he’s moaning like one so it’s not very surprising, is it. His eyes slide to Maul and he groans. The bastard is staring at Rex’s ass, hypnotized by his own cock. Fucking narcissist.

Rex decides he can be mean. He clenches tight around him and grins when he sees him throw his head back and open his mouth widely in a silent cry. The demon stops pounding him and his chest heaves; he’s panting like he can’t breathe. Rex smirks. Serves him right.

But what he doesn’t expect is Maul sighing heavily, eyes staring down at Rex’s reflection and there’s a slow, vicious smile spreading on his face. Shit. He’s fucked, isn’t he?

The demon raises one hand and clenches it into a fist. Rex’s throat stops working and he gags, unable to breathe, an invisible force constricting his airflow. Maul tilts his head and smiles. “Come here,” he whispers and Rex is pulled back harshly until his back slaps against the demon’s chest. He’s trying to wring himself out of his hold but he can’t move.

“Blink if you want me to stop,” Maul says in his ear, glowing eyes set on the mirror facing them. Rex’s eyes stay wide open. The demon shivers, a slow grin gracing his face, and he purrs, “Good boy.”

Rex coughs, able to breath once again, and his eyelids feel heavy when Maul’s hand settles around his throat. “Hearts,” he rasps, voice cracking, and he shudders when he feels the demon’s arm pulling him tight against him.

“Hold onto me,” Maul orders in a soft whisper. “Look in the mirror. Do _not_ touch yourself.” He starts slow and deep, hand squeezing each time he bottoms out. Rex’s eyes stay fixed on the mirror. “Beautiful,” the demon rewards. The roll of his hips grows quicker, harder, and when the hand curled around his throat tightens and holds the position, not fully stopping him from breathing but enough for him to struggle, Rex thinks he’s going to pass out more quickly than expected. 

The rhythm is set to hard and fast. Maul grunts with each thrust and Rex’s eyes water. One of the demon’s horns is painful for the back of his head but honestly he couldn’t care less. When he starts crying, the demon moans in delight, licking his skin.

“Mine,” he whispers against his cheek, delighted. “Mine, mine, mine.”

Rex sobs. He comes as soon as Maul growls in his ear instinctively.

And he passes out right after.

  
  
  
  


When he wakes up, he’s under the covers, lying on his back, Maul curled possessively around him. He’s still sleeping.

Rex allows his eyes to wander—he watches his back fall and rise with each deep breath, the muscles stretching. He watches his face, slack and at peace, at the pillow he put between them so he wouldn’t hurt him with his horns. He watches his arm, how his hand is curled around Rex’s shoulder. 

He’s so fucking beautiful and Rex is so much in love with him it’s infuriating. 

He tries to move, slowly so as not to wake him, and gets out of bed silently. He suppresses a wince when he stands up. Ah, fuck, he’s going to feel it for a while, isn’t he.

Somehow it hurts and reassures him. He wants to feel it for a while. He’s not sure he can’t stand feeling it for a while considering what he’s about to do.

He wants to throw up again. He pads to where his clothes are and dresses up silently.

“Captain,” the demon mutters. Rex freezes. He quickly glances back at the bed. Maul is blinking slowly, glowing eyes set on his figure.

“I just need to stretch my legs for a while,” he justifies, putting on his coat. “I won't be long.”

Maul looks at him and nods silently, arm sliding under his pillow, stretching lazily. Rex averts his gaze before he can change his mind. 

When he closes the door behind him, he hears, “Is he expensive?”

He turns back. It’s one of the sex workers. She’s sitting next to the door left ajar, a cigarette between her fingers. He takes one out of his pocket and leans down, silently asking for her to light it up.

“He’s not for sale,” he says then nods his thanks. The girl grins.

“Lucky you.”

He leaves her with a wink and a sour taste in his mouth. When he walks next to the clerk at the counter, the man says, “We don’t do partial refunds.”

Rex snorts. “I won’t be long. I’m still paying.”

He walks to the closest dead end he can find. There’s an unconscious guy there reeking of cheap whisky. Rex throws his cigarette on the ground, takes another one and hesitates. Ah, fuck it. He lights it up with his fingers, eyes focused on the guy. No reaction.

He’s two blocks away when the bat lands on the ground in front of him like a mighty winged fucker. Rex rolls his eyes.

“Can’t leave me the fuck alone, can you?” he sneers. The bat doesn’t even deign to react.

“Where is he,” he asks calmly. Rex feels his hackles raise.

“None of your fucking business,” he spits. “I told you I’d take care of him.”

The bat takes a step forward. Rex’s blood sings.

The attack he expects never comes. The bat stays silent, standing him before him like a fucking statue. Rex seethes.

“What do you want?” he snaps. The bat frowns.

“To understand,” he says.

Somehow it’s the worst fucking thing to say because Rex gasps and he leans against the closest wall to hold himself up.

“There’s nothing to understand,” he sneers. “Can’t you give me time for fuck’s sake? Do you even know what I’m about to do?” He throws his cigarette away in anger and pushes himself up, walking towards the bat, growling. The mana inside him stirs.

“I’m about to kill my heart and soul,” he tells him with a painful smile. “Can you understand what that means, baby bird? Do you even know what it’s like to be half of a whole?” He scoffs, shaking his head. 

The bat remains silent. It infuriates him.

“They’re all dead, you know?” he mutters. “And if not, it’s even worse. I watched my brothers die one by one. My closest brother is an angel now. He doesn’t even remember who I am.” Rex laughs to stop himself from sobbing in front of a guy in a fucking Halloween costume. “And my best friend—oh, he's a big name now. Second to the First, can you imagine? There's an Aitu in Hell now bowing to Satan like he's his own God.” He smiles with disgust. “It's my fault. I know it is. I couldn't kill him, could I? He couldn't be tempted—no, not Anakin, yeah? Right.”

He takes another cigarette and lights it up with his index mindlessly, comforted by the mana growling inside him.

“My biggest mistake was thinking we had time. We could survive, yeah. Sure we never got mixed up as much before but it wasn't that alarming, was it?” He shakes his head. “I stayed loyal to mine and spat on my brother when he attached himself willingly to one of the self-righteous pricks. Suddenly we weren't good enough for Cody, you see. We were _tainted._ Fuck him.” He spits on the ground. “If I could pluck out all of his fucking feathers I would.”

“They assimilated,” the bat says. Rex laughs mirthlessly.

“Was this or extinction, baby bird.” He throws his arms in the air. “And they weren't wrong, see? I'm all that's left. Even Maul isn't himself anymore.”

He shows him his palm and whispers the forbidden words; his skin lights up and the markings appear, as radiant as the lava he was born out of. A gift from the old gods in exchange for Maul’s love. With his hand, Rex destroyed his kin before they could become dangerous. He took the mana inside them and let them starve; he killed them with the very same thing when they grew too dangerous. He did his own personal genocide.

“If you’re here to convince me, I already know,” he whispers. “It doesn’t make it any easier. But I’ll do it.”

The bat nods silently. He jumps from one spot to another until he hovers on the roof above Rex, watching him. He’s going to walk him back to the motel. Somehow it doesn’t feel like the bat is checking if he’s going to do it. 

Rex takes a long drag, feels the rot expand inside his lungs, and nods in thanks.

The walk back is awful. He knows it was going to be—but he couldn’t make himself do it just like that, not after… 

He checks the sky. It’s clean. The bat is on the second rooftop to his right, half hidden by the shadows. The city is silent and Rex feels nothing beneath his feet. Even the mana inside him is oddly quiet.

When he’s in front of the motel, he checks one last time. The bat isn’t here. He can’t sense him either. This is where Rex needs to be on his own. He pushes the door and gets inside.

“Night isn't over, is it?” he says to the clerk before the man can comment on his coming back. In the corridor, the girl and her chair have disappeared. The door is closed. Rex tries to ignore any sound coming from behind it.

Once he’s inside the room, his eyes go straight to the bed. The demon is still here. He’s still lying down, his back to Rex. When he closes the door, Maul rolls over and smiles.

“Hello, captain,” he whispers softly. Rex smiles.

“Hey, hearts.”

Maul beckons him with a single look. And Rex is the most fuckingly stupid guy in this entire earth because he goes eagerly. The demon pulls him down on top of him, he kisses him hello, nipping his lower lip softly. He offers him a sigh that ends on a muted moan and Rex shivers only with that. 

“What’s wrong?” Maul asks him with a concerned frown, hands cupping his face. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much because Rex _knows_ there’s nothing genuine about his expression but he stills looks like _it is._

“You can't even love me anymore, can you?” he asks brokenly. “Fuck, look at you. You're just a pale copy of what you used to be.”

Maul stares at him. For a long moment, it seems he won't move or say anything—but his eyes slide down to the space between them and he mutters, “Remind me how to.”

“What?” Rex frowns, breathing heavily. Maul leans closer slowly; he sets his hands to the back of his head, crossing his fingers, and tilts his head until their lips graze.

“Remind me how to love,” he whispers. “Remind me what it felt like. Remind me who I am.”

“Maul—”

“Don't kill me,” he pleads. “Show me. Teach me. Don't lose hope in me.”

“Don't do this,” Rex says, pushing him away. He can't look at him. “Don't fucking do this.”

“Captain—”

“No,” he snaps, putting a hand over his face. He sighs heavily and ignores how shaky his breath is. “Fuck you.”

Maul stays silent. Of course the bastard does. 

“Fuck you,” he repeats. “You don't even think half of what you just said. How many people did you kill, yeah? How many, Maul?”

No response. Rex laughs brokenly. “You don't even remember, do you.”

“Rex,” he calls, touching him, kissing his shoulder and caressing his skin; he curls himself around him, pulls him in a tight embrace and says against his temple, “Please. I don't want to die. I don't want to be forgotten.”

“I'll always remember you,” he replies roughly, hands clutching at Maul's arms. “I won't forget you.”

“We could be together forever,” the demon whispers in the sensitive place between his neck and shoulder, laying a kiss on his skin. “All you have to do is show me.”

“It's too late,” he dismisses, calling a cigarette to his hand and lighting it with a single look.

“Don't you love me?”

Rex stares at the mirror, sees how Maul coiled himself around him. Sex in its darkest form indeed. He takes a long drag on his cigarette and blows out the smoke into the demon’s open mouth, closing his eyes when he feels him shudder. He lets him take off his clothes silently, shivering when his hands caress bare skin.

He can't do it.

“You know I do, hearts,” he replies, breath hitching at the way Maul’s hands roam over his body, fingers caressing and stroking his sides possessively.

“Show me you love me. Show me how it feels.”

Fuck. Maul kisses him languidly, puts his entire being into a silent promise. Rex can't do it.

“Help me,” the demon pleads in a sinful whisper. Rex kisses him back enthusiastically, desire and love muddling his thoughts. Fuck. He needs to buy a gift basket to the bats as an apology. “Help me, please.”

Fuck it. He's not going to do it.

“Alright,” Rex says softly, shivering at Maul stroking his sides in a soothing rhythm. He can't make himself let go of him. He embraces the demon tightly and sighs in relief, smiling against his skin, because it's always been difficult to say no to Maul—and this time isn't any different.

“You are mine,” the demon says against his temple, his arms tightening around his ribs; Rex moans, nodding emphatically, and suddenly he can't even remember why he's been fighting against this. 

Maul smiles against his skin, shivering with delight. “I am never letting you go, captain,” he whispers like a sinful secret full of muted delight and sharp conviction. “And I am never letting you run away again.”

“Alright,” Rex gasps, breathing heavily. He's not—he can't thin—

“I love you, Rex,” he tells him, hands gripping him sharply, eliciting a loud moan that takes the fight out of him. “More than you can ever imagine.” He pushes him down on the ground and kisses him with his entire being. “Someday you'll understand,” he whispers, hand stroking his ribs softly. Rex whimpers, unable to form words.

“But until then,” the demon continues, licking the mark possessively, “I'm afraid I cannot let you hold the reins.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> looks like all the demon hunters go to hell one way or another HAHAHAH AHa ahhh
> 
> (listen to the bats and kill your demons before it's too late)


End file.
